Free The Butcher's Boy by Thomas Perry Page A

Started in 1936 by a couple of master machinists who hired a few friends, then grew when the war came. Made airplane parts, patterns for drop-forged ship fittings, things like that. Been a minor defense subcontractor ever since."

    "Any chance of new stockholders? Unusual loans or anything?"

    " Elizabeth, these people have been on our books for thirty-five years.
    They get a new clearance every time a contract comes up for renewal. If they moved the water cooler we'd know it. They're in perfect health."

    "Well, save the file for me anyway. What about the union?"

    "Clean too, at least so far. They're part of the file, but we're still checking with the Department of Labor. All we know at the moment is there aren't any shady characters hanging around the factory; that was all Defense was interested in. Labor should know something."

    "When they answer ask them for information on the pension plan."

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    "The what?"

    "The union's pension fund. And oh, yes. I'm afraid I've got a new one.
    Fieldston Growth Enterprises. The union invested in it."

    "All right, but keep the fishing to a minimum, okay?"

    "Sure, Roger. Whatever you say," said Elizabeth, without conviction. "I'll call you early tomorrow."

    "Wait a minute, Elizabeth," said Padgett. "Brayer wants to talk to you."
    The irony was back in his voice.

    Then Brayer's voice said, "Elizabeth, have you heard the news about Senator Claremont?"

    "No. What about him?"

    "He died in his hotel room in Denver last night. It looks like a stroke or a heart attack, but the autopsy will take a while. There's going to be an investigation, so I'm taking you off what you're working on. I want you in Denver by late afternoon or early evening."

    Elizabeth couldn't help herself. She said, "What for? It's crazy! I've been on this case exactly four hours, not to mention the fact that there's nothing for me to do in Denver when I get there."

    "No use arguing about it, you're going. It's orders from the Attorney General's office. We've got to send a field agent, and you're the closest one that I can spare today. This thing Roger's working on looks big, and everybody's tied up."

    "You trying to tell me the FBI doesn't have a field office in Denver?"

    "Damn it, Elizabeth ! I'm not going to stand here for the rest of the day justifying my decisions to you. There are reasons, that's all. Now get moving."
    He hung up, hard.

    Elizabeth whispered to herself as she hung up the telephone, "Yes, sir!"
    When she looked up, Hart was coming down the hall with the chief of police.

    "Chief, thank you very much for your cooperation," he said. "We'll be in touch." It was all very cordial, but there was an edge to his voice as though he were trying not to sound angry.

    As they walked down the steps to their rented car he said, "Was that your call from home?"

    "Yes," she said. "Did you get one too?"

    "Of course. A little while ago." The anger was definite now.

    "I don't understand it."

    "I do," he said. "Politics. Pure politics. They have to reassure the senators who vote on budgets that we take it seriously when one of them dies. Even if it's a heart attack."

    "But I'm not even a field investigator. I'm a data analyst."

    "Who cares? There's not going to be anything to investigate. We're just there for the roll call."

    "That still doesn't explain why they pulled us off an actual fresh murder when there must be thirty or forty teams closer to Denver who are better 38

    qualified than I am at least—"

    "How do you know this was a murder?" he asked.

    "Well it is, isn't it?" she said. "Nothing else makes any sense at all. I was at Veasy's house this morning. They have a yard you could cover with a bedspread, and he was supposed to be carrying big sacks of fertilizer around in his pickup truck. What for? And the other thing is that you're really angry and I don't think you would be unless you thought it was a murder too, so we can at least agree on that even if nobody else does. If you didn't think